


First Impressions

by yodepalma



Series: Dragon Scars [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Canon-Typical Violence, Dogmen, Dragon Roy Mustang, Dragons, F/M, Families of Choice, Fantasy Creatures, Firefly References, Fluff, Gargoyle, Humanoid Aliens, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Multiple, Present Tense, References to Canon, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Some Humor, Team as Family, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodepalma/pseuds/yodepalma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the things they say about soulmates is absolutely true: the first meeting never goes the way you expect it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be in two chapters just for my own peace of mind (sometimes I get weird about POV changes okay). So the first chapter is Al, and the next chapter (which is _nearly done_ ) is Ed. Also, Ed's bit will be, uh, slightly longer.
> 
> I'm not sure where the Havoc/Fuery came from. I was blithely writing away and then I was like "oh wait, they're together now? okay?". There are some things that are just not meant to be questioned.
> 
> Quite a few events in this series will mirror events from both 03 and Brotherhood. Since this is completely AU I figured doing a mix-and-match of my favorite bits of each won't hurt anything.

  _First Impressions_

 

 _…and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other’s sight, as I may say, even for a moment…  
_ **-Plato, The Symposium**

Al comes back to himself slowly, in a mild amount of pain and knowing without opening his eyes that he has no idea where he is. It's a distressingly familiar feeling at this point (he would blame Ed, but honestly he's not been the reasonable influence he probably should be lately), and he holds back a sigh with some trouble. Keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even, he starts taking stock of his surroundings. The lack of pain is worrying, as is the revelation that he can breathe without issue; he knows what kind of shape he'd been in before he'd passed out, and this screams of professional healing that he shouldn't have been able to get. The annoying beeping noises and faint murmur of voices in the distance says hospital, and a hospital should mean he's been captured. But he's not tied down, which suggests they don't know who they have, so nobody should have brought him to the hospital.

None of it makes sense. He doesn't like it.

But he's not going to find out anything by pretending to be unconscious, so he opens his eyes reluctantly and breathes in a little sharply as if he woke up suddenly. The woman sitting at his bedside snaps to attention instantly, but though her shoulders are military-straight and her eyes are sharp, the small smile she gives him is kind and lovely. He wishes he could trust it.

“Hello, Alfons,” she says brightly, which isn't quite his name. He opens his mouth to say so, irritated, but she holds up a subtle finger to halt him and mouths what looks like ‘play along’. Al hesitates briefly, staring at her in confusion, but finally decides to see what her game is.

“H-hello,” he stutters, and takes a sharp breath and holds it and _refuses to cough_. The woman’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the only sign of her concern, and she reaches for a pitcher of water on the bedside table. After pouring a cup, she helps him into a seated position, and sits on the bed next to him to help him drink. One arm she leaves behind his back, bracing him should he slip, and with this hand she traces _Elizabeth_ into his side. The other hand holds the glass up to his lips, and her sleeve falls back slightly to reveal a strong wrist. _Alphonse Elric_ stretches over it like a half-bracelet, tiny and neat in his own impeccable handwriting.

Al nearly chokes on the water, swallows it with some difficulty, then pushes her hand away to turn and look at the woman incredulously. This time he takes in the long blonde hair held up in a sensible bun, the soft brown eyes, and notes how incredibly beautiful she is.

“Oh,” he says, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks. “Oh, you're—um. Elizabeth. Hi.”

She smiles at him a little more brightly than before, putting the cup back on the nightstand and slowly getting up. She leaves him leaning against the headboard.

“I'm going to go get a nurse and see what we can do about getting you released,” she says softly, bending to give him a simple kiss on the cheek. She hovers for another moment, clearly unwilling to leave, but finally turns and exits the room with a confident walk. Al can't stop himself from grinning like an idiot as he watches her. It's not the scenario he had in mind for the moment, but he's found her! He touches a hand to his collarbone briefly, savors the feeling of finally knowing the woman behind the name etched into it like a tattoo, and waits patiently for her return.

The nurses are pleasantly efficient, if a little nervous and constantly shooting ‘Elizabeth’ mildly disconcerted looks. Al's soulmate, in turn, watches them all with an even expression that doesn't twitch once, no matter how familiar with Al they have to get in the course of their jobs. It's rather impressive for a race as territorial as hers, and Al has to keep fighting back the urge to stare at her and grin like an idiot (because he clearly _is_ an idiot).

Finally, they declare that they've done everything they can to help Al, and they manhandle him into a wheelchair despite his protests, then walk him out to the front where the paperwork to release him is surprisingly simple. He shoots ‘Elizabeth’ a suspicious look (she responds with a half-smile that means nothing at all), but fills in what little is left and makes up a signature for ‘Alfons’ on the spot. He'll have to dig his alternate persona’s information out of her eventually and fill in all the holes she left.

She takes his elbow as they walk down the hospital escalator, leans into him and says, “We can talk on the ship.” All the subterfuge really ought to be making Al nervous, but with the life he and his brother lead he actually finds it soothing right now. If she's already in enough trouble to require going to such lengths, then maybe he won't ruin her life.

They're just approaching the dock when their luck nearly runs out. Al sees a pair of familiar white suits and almost freezes in fear, but thankfully the woman at his side continues inexorably on—though she does alter their path slightly. She shoots him a look that asks questions she can't voice yet, and Al swallows hard and shakes his head. There are some answers he can't give, and the Wraiths...honestly, it's best if she doesn't know. He certainly wishes he didn't. There were enough monsters in the universe without adding perfectly sentient ones to the mix.

Al keeps an eye out for more of them, but it seems like the Wraiths either hadn't seen him or were looking for something (or some _one_ ) else entirely. It doesn't make him feel any relief. Those people are single-minded in the pursuit of their prey, and if they catch sight of Al—

“Which dock are we on?” Al asks with forced casualness after he jumps at seeing a woman in a white dress in his peripheral vision.

“It isn't far,” he's assured calmly. He takes a deep breath, and thinks calm thoughts. Long showers. Actual on-planet sunsets. The taste of fresh fruit. Kittens.

“Hey, Liz, hurry up!” a voice calls, and he looks up with a start. Another man is waving from the bottom of the ramp of a waiting ship, a cigarette dangling from his lips. A pair of pointy golden ears are pointed forward in interest, and a fluffy golden tail trails by his feet. Beside him, both arms looped around one of his, is a smaller man with floppy black ears and a small black tail that's whipping back and forth excitedly. “The rats are starting to sniff around and I ain't eating ‘em this time!”

Al really, really hopes that's a metaphor for something. Ew, rats.

“We're all set to go,” ‘Elizabeth’ says. “Go get the ship ready for takeoff and I'll show Alfons where everything is. We can meet on the bridge to get acquainted.”

The blond man gives her a hearty salute, and he and his friend bound up the ramp without further instructions.

“Are you the captain?” Al asks curiously.

‘Elizabeth’ doesn't say anything for another long moment as the ramp closes behind them. “No,” she sighs in exasperation, “he’s been in something of a sulk since we found you. He won't admit it, but he's upset I've found my soulmate first. We rather expected...”

Al stares at her curiously, but she doesn't take her thought up again. Instead she shows him around the ship. All of the bedrooms are occupied, and when she points out her own she hesitates briefly.

“Alphonse,” (Al’s heart skips and he grins stupidly at the sound of his real name) “I hope we weren't being presumptuous, but when we realized that you were my soulmate, we decided it would be best if you bunked with me. I understand if you're not comfortable with it yet, and we can always change if you like.”

“Oh, no, it's fine!” Al assures her quickly, even though he knows he’s blushing again. “I mean, I mean I don't know if I'll want to—you know—right away, we barely know each other, but I'd like to stay as close to you as possible. I guess. I mean, as close as you want me to, I don't want to crowd you...”

Riza—and boy does it feel good to use her real name—smiles at him again, like she thinks he’s adorable, and Al ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck. She really is beautiful, and quite a bit older than him, and Al isn't certain what he had done to deserve a soulmate like her. Perhaps he'd been really amazing in a past life. Thank you, past life self.

“Why don't you come inside for a moment?” Riza asks softly, opening the door to her room and ducking inside. Al follows her automatically, looking around curiously. It’s scrupulously neat, which he approves of, and has a collection of guns scattered over the walls that he likes a little less. The bed, pushed into a corner to leave as much floorspace available as possible, is large and comfortable-looking and will definitely fit both of them. Which is good, because there’s no sign of another place for Al to sleep.

Riza steps up to him, a brief uncertain look flitting across her face as she puts a hand flat against his chest. Her fingertips rest on his collarbone, right where her name would be visible if it wasn’t covered by his shirt, and Al licks his lips nervously. He has no idea what to do. Does she want him to kiss her? He's never kissed _anyone_ before, he'd wanted to wait for his soulmate and wouldn't have been able to anyway—

She curls her fingers in his shirt and pulls him gently down into a chaste kiss. Al tries to reciprocate, which seems to mess the whole thing up, and she huffs a soft laugh into his mouth that doesn’t seem upset at all, then slowly, gently nudges him in the right direction. Al wraps his arms around her when he gets the hang of it, and his tongue in her mouth is absolute _heaven_ , and he never wants to stop.

After what feels simultaneously like a bare second and several long hours, she gently pushes him away and says, “We have to meet up with the rest of the crew.”

“Right,” Al says faintly, staring at her lips blankly. Then he gives himself a sharp shake and forces himself to let go of her, stepping back and smiling more brightly than he can remember smiling in a long time. “Right, the crew. Shall we?”

He offers her his arm and, smiling again, she takes it.

They're on the bridge more quickly than Al would like, but he fights back the disappointment he feels at not being alone with his soulmate any longer. Several pairs of eyes turn to them as they enter, and Riza’s grip on his arm tightens as something in her expression hardens.

What Al had first thought was a particularly ugly statue holds up its hands in a gesture signifying a lack of threat. “Easy, Hawkeye,” the gargoyle says. “Nobody's eying up your territory. Especially not in _his_ territory.”

Four nervous sets of eyes glance over to the command chair, then swiftly look away. Nobody seems to know quite where to look or what to say, and into the tense silence, Riza heaves a very quiet put-upon sigh. The man in the command chair doesn't move from the lazy sprawl he's in, though his eyes do open just a sliver.

“Why don't you sit in the co-pilot’s seat, Alphonse,” Riza says, the lack of question in her tone emphasized by her gentle tug on his arm. Al obligingly lets her maneuver him, and is rewarded with her seating herself primly in his lap. He suspects it’s a territorial thing and doesn't comment on it.

“So, introductions!” the pilot says eventually, clapping his hands once and grinning at Al. It's the blond-haired man from earlier, his tail now curled up around his own waist in a display of nerves. “I'm Jean Havoc; I fly this heap o’ bolts.”

 _This_ gets a reaction from the man in the command chair: he growls, not very loudly, but a clear warning nonetheless. Al seems to be the only one remotely bothered by it, so he tries to shrug it off as easily as the crew does.

“And this guy is Kain Fuery, my soulmate and the best damn mechanic a boat could ask for!” Havoc continues heartily, reaching out a hand, and the other dogman appears as if he'd been summoned there. Al could have _sworn_ he'd been on the other side of the room a second earlier.

“I'm really much more suited towards communications than ship maintenance,” Fuery says humbly, blushing even as his tail wags a little in pleasure. Havoc gives him a look of clear adoration.

“They're sickening, aren't they?” the gargoyle says, not sounding grossed out at all. Perhaps he's just used to it. “Heymans Breda, strategy and logistics and, most importantly, up way past my bedtime.” And as Al watches, he goes as still and silent as a statue again. Creepy.

“He doesn't have a soulmate,” Riza says. Most people included the status of their search in introductions right away, if only to prevent awkward questions later on. “Most of his race don't. He often forgets to tell people.”

The fourth member of the crew looks up from the screen he had been bent over from the moment Al entered the room and gives a tiny sort of salute. He’s the most curious member of all; while Riza and the so-far unnamed captain look human, there’s something otherwordly about them that clearly labels them as something else, but with this last man it's hard to tell. He could be human, but Al isn't entirely certain. “Vato Falman,” he introduces himself. “I specialize in most electronics and have acquired a vast amount of knowledge on an array of subjects. Please don't enquire about my soulmate.”

Perhaps he's a robot. But robots don't _have_ soulmates, and “don’t enquire” was how people politely announced that their soulmates were dead. The silence that followed such a statement was always respectful, sometimes slightly admiring; it took a strong person to continue on when their mate was already gone. Not everyone could do it. Not everyone even wanted to.

Everyone turns again toward the command chair. The man in it sighs as if they're all being very tiresome, stretches out his limbs with a yawn, and finally opens his eyes all the way. He leans a cheek on his fist, looking terribly bored with the events as a whole, but Al can tell by the tenseness of his shoulders and the way his gaze bores into Al’s own that he is anything but.

“Roy Mustang,” he says.

Al gasps and, ignoring the tension the sound initiated, blurts, “You're my brother's soulmate!” with a delighted grin.

Mustang’s face slips off his hand.

“What,” he says flatly, looking utterly flummoxed for only a brief second. Then he seems to pull himself together through sheer force of will, and the intensity of the look he gives Al seems to double. “Tell me where he is.”

“Oh, our rendezvous point changed based on the date,” Al says slowly, trying to figure out just how late he is in meeting back up with Ed. He'd been so distracted by finding Riza he hadn't even glanced at the date on the discharge papers, but now as he recalls them his eyes widen in horror. “Was that date on the papers in Standard?”

“It was an Alliance-approved hospital,” Riza says.

“I'm almost three weeks past our latest date!” he moans. “He's in trouble, he's bound to be in trouble, he always does something _stupid_ —”

“ _Where is he?_ ” Mustang snarls, making a threatening movement towards Al that’s aborted by a warning growl from Riza.

Al rubs at his face, thinking hard. Ed would have called all of their usual contacts and safe spots nonstop the moment Al had missed their latest possible rendezvous date, then would have burnt all the fuel in their ship several times over checking out their shadier contacts. There was a possibility he was still on his second-to-last resort, but if he wasn't and Al was wrong—and he'd end up moving on anyway when Ling didn't have any information.

“I have to go to Lior,” he says dully.

The vehement and repeated denials are expected, of course. Absolutely nobody goes to Lior these days, not since the Alliance had moved in on rumors of a rebellious religious cult and utterly decimated the planet. The survivors don't like to be reminded of the government that had destroyed them, even in the form of people running from said government, and they have a habit of killing first and asking questions later.

What the crew don't know is that Ed and Al had been the ones to accidentally spread the rumors, and that many of the people take their continued existence personally.

“I'm not asking you to come with me,” Al finally snaps, irritated by the argument going on around him. Riza had kept clear of it, and remains seated with unnatural calm in his lap. “He's my brother. Just get me close enough to steal a ship large enough to get there.”

“You're not going alone,” Riza says, softly but in a tone that brooks no argument.

“It's suicide,” Havoc says. “They'll slit your throat sooner than you can blink—”

“And if it were Kain?” Mustang asks coldly. “Would you be insisting we leave him there to face certain death alone?”

Havoc’s protests fall silent, and nobody says anything else as Mustang looks pointedly around at them all. “I am not losing my mate before I've even found him. And if the locals wish to kill me, they'll discover there are much easier targets than a lone dragon, won't they?”

The grin he gives them has far too many teeth to fit comfortably in a human mouth. Despite himself, Al finds it to be strangely comforting and can't help but think that Ed's intense soulmate is entirely too suited for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally sorted out how to write the main story!! Except I still haven't decided whether it's going to be four more stories or just two more. I will find out after I write it, which will hopefully all happen this month for Camp NaNoWriMo. Working titles are in the series notes. :3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH. I am so mad, omg. So, sincere apologies for taking almost the whole month to get this out, but it was arguing with me like you wouldn't believe. I blame Ed. Contrary little fucker. >[
> 
> Presented with thanks to Kairi, and Bats, and Twitter in general, all of whom regularly listen to me whine without ever telling me to stfu. (I am very whiny. It's okay. I'm also incapable of shame, so it works out pretty well.)

Ed barrels down the hallway without really seeing where he’s going, more pissed off than panicked, but either way too distracted for unimportant things like paying attention to his surroundings. He hadn’t even managed to get _to_ Rose before the vultures had found him, and this time the remains of the cult had apparently all crawled out of the woodwork at once to hunt him down and get revenge for his and Al’s stupid fumble all those years ago. Like they’d meant to bring the Alliance down on the planet, like they’d _wanted_ Bradley anywhere near them or anyone they were affiliated with—but there were some things you just didn’t fucking mess with, and that priest hadn’t had any idea of what he was playing with—

And now these assholes are preventing him from his last chance of getting information about Al. Not that it’s likely Rose has any information when nobody else did, but if there’s anything here and he misses it because of a herd of fanatics he’s going to be fucking _furious_.

The turn at the end of the hall catches him by surprise, and he curses briefly as he skims the wall when he turns too late—and then shouts in alarm when he sees the man that's just cresting the top stair.

He has too much forward momentum to stop, even after getting slowed down by the turn. Ed runs straight into the stranger, feels him reach out for the banister, and for a breathless second they teeter at the top of the stairs like the man might just manage to keep their balance. Then they’re tumbling down, each step more painful than the last, and when they finally hit the landing, Ed just lays there sprawled face-down on the floor and hates _everything_.

It’s only a moment before the stranger is shifting, clearly not too harmed by the fall. “Are you alright?” he asks Ed quietly.

“I’m fine,” Ed grumbles to the floor. “Sorry about the stairs.”

“Are you sure you’re fine?” the man presses, his deep voice sounding unaccountably concerned and, dammit, that makes Ed feel guilty for just laying there. He sighs in irritation and pushes himself to his knees, ignores the startled little noise the man makes, and would have explained himself if he hadn’t felt the lightest of touches at the back of his neck.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ed snarls, slapping the hand away and jerking himself out of reach. He slaps his own hand over the back of his neck protectively. “I said I was fucking fine, you don’t have any damn right—”

“I’m sorry,” the man says, holding his hands up placatingly, and Ed unhappily subsides to wait for an explanation. The man doesn’t seem interested in giving one, however; he’s just looking over Ed with a weird expression on his face, almost _hungrily_ , and it makes Ed want to cover himself even though every inch of his skin is covered from the neck down.

“What’s your problem?” Ed snaps, backing away a little, not that there’s far for him to go. “Never seen a human before?”

The man flinches at the question, then gives Ed a look that he can’t quite read. He steps forward and Ed automatically puts his back right up against the wall, not certain what’s going on but feeling safer with the knowledge that nobody can come up behind him. The man keeps his hands up unthreateningly, telegraphs every move to show that he’s not going to harm Ed, and puts himself right up in Ed’s personal space.

“I’ve known a few humans,” he says, voice intimately low. Ed isn’t really certain why he hasn’t just decked the bastard yet. It’s probably because he’s really good-looking, like, _obscenely_ good-looking, and it would be kind of upsetting to ruin his face. “But this is the first time I’ve met you, Edward.”

Every single one of Ed’s body processes grinds to a sudden, unavoidable halt. How the hell could he possibly know—

A commotion at the top of the stairs catches their attention, and Ed’s heart starts up again only to speed at least double its usual rate. He thinks he’s having a heart attack.

“Just kill them both, then!” one of the priests growls at another, and an old-fashioned but still potentially deadly gun is aimed in their direction.

The man Ed had knocked down the stairs growls, actually fucking growls, and grips Ed’s collar firmly to drag him, unprotesting, through a nearby doorway into a mostly-destroyed temple. Ed can hear the priests cursing and clattering down the stairs behind them, but he ignores it so he can focus on breathing evenly until he no longer feels like he’s going to have a panic attack.

“Who the fuck _are_ you?” Ed demands angrily, ignoring the hoarseness of his own voice and wrenching the man’s hand off his collar with his prosthetic hand. “If you’ve come to fucking kill me—”

The man spins around, and his perfect features have been overlaid with something positively _reptilian_. Black scales have climbed up the sides of his neck and are creeping over his cheeks as Ed watches, and the hands that come up to gently cup Ed’s face end in sharp claws that could tear a man to shreds.

“I would _never_ ,” he says fervently. “There’s not enough money or power in the universe to convince me—”

Ed has just enough time to think ‘ _holy shit_ ’ before the door they hadn’t quite shut behind them bursts open and the priests come in with their weaponry held at the ready. The man who must be Ed’s soulmate turns towards them more slowly than he’d whirled on Ed, but as he’s turning he’s also changing shape, his form shimmering and stretching strangely until Ed’s standing in shocked surprise behind the protective bulk of an adult dragon.

There isn’t the sound of gunshot, or even the high whine of a laser going off. After a brief pause, though, there is a loud crunch, and then the pieces of the gun clatter noisily to the floor.

“Edward is _mine_ ,” Roy Mustang rumbles to the petrified men.

“Fuck me,” Ed breathes, a grin splitting his face, and he shuffles to the side so he can peer around the dragon’s bulk and see what’s going on. The priests look simultaneously furious and too scared to do anything about it, but they rally at the sight of Ed’s face.

“This heathen is responsible for the destruction of our planet!” one of them says dramatically, pointing at Ed. Ed rolls his eyes. He felt bad about the way things had turned out, yeah, but these people were insane. “We have a right to his life!”

Roy brings his head down to the priest’s own, and Ed can’t see his expression from this angle, but enjoys the way the priests both flinch back. “You think your vengeance a greater claim on him than my Mark?” he asks, all quiet fury and implicit threat. “Then there will be laws in place for me to fight your claim, of course. Would you care to choose your champion?”

“D-don’t speak of things you know nothing about, monster!” the priest says. “I’m not interested in your false Mark—”

“Watch your fucking words,” Ed growls, stalking toward the priest until Roy slides his front leg into his way. Ed huffs in irritation, but subsides. He’ll break Roy of this stupid protective streak later, when there aren’t people threatening to kill him.

“Regardless of your interest, my first statement remains true,” Roy says. “And if you’re not going to respect this, well, the only question left is which one of you I should eat first.”

Ed’s _pretty_ sure he’s not actually going to eat either of the men, because that’s just all kinds of fucked up, but he smirks anyway like the thought amuses him. The priests look at each other uncertainly, shuffle a bit closer together, and put their heads in close to confer with each other. Ed tries not to laugh.

“We’ll let you go this time, Elric,” the priest finally says loftily, now ignoring Roy entirely in an attempt to regain his dignity. Ed rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “But don’t expect such generosity from our people if you dare to show your face on this planet again!”

“Generosity, sure,” Ed drawls. “Next time I just won’t get caught.”

The priests sneer at them, but Roy has clearly done a good job of spooking them, because they don’t say anything else. Ed watches to make sure they’re going to leave, then ducks out from behind Roy’s protective stance before the door has closed behind them. Roy hasn’t looked away yet, which gives Ed a chance to look the dragon over. He’s solid black and powerful, quite nearly as beautiful as his human form had been, and right smack in the middle of his chest Ed’s messy scrawl stands out like a particularly ugly scar.

He tugs the glove off his left hand and runs it down the leg next to him. “Shit,” he says, marveling at the feel of the scales under his palm. He doesn’t run it the other way, even though he really wants to. Dragon scales are sharp enough to cut if you’re not careful, Ed knows; he’s done the reading. “Is this for real? I’m not having some sort of weird concussion-related hallucination, am I?”

Then he breaks into peals of nervous, slightly hysterical laughter, because, wow, he’d just met his soulmate by _knocking him down the stairs_. How fucked up was that?

“Shhh,” Roy says soothingly, nuzzling at Ed’s head in a way that kind of makes Ed want to hit him and kind of makes him want to melt. “You’re alright. Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” Ed says. “Just—I’m the only asshole in the ‘verse who could meet his soulmate by knocking them down the stairs. Everything I touch is such a fucking mess.”

“I’m certain that’s just hyperbole,” Roy murmurs, taking in a deep breath. The nuzzling stops and his head dips lower, tucking under Ed’s chin and craning his head back uncomfortably. He breathes in deeply again, but this time it ends in a growl.

“What are you doing?” Ed asks blankly.

“Somebody’s left their scent all over you,” the dragon growls. “What fool was trying to mark you as their possession?”

“Wait, _what_?” Ed says. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Roy, he’s just surprised at the sheer fucking audacity of Ling when he knew damn well that their agreement was temporary. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Who was it?” Roy asks, an urgency to his tone that makes Ed hesitate. Roy growls again when Ed doesn’t answer him, shifting suddenly back into his human form. He backs Ed up into what feels like the altar, pinning him with the weight of his body and the possessive softness of his hands on Ed’s neck. Ed grabs hold of the front of Roy’s shirt with both hands to hold himself steady, wondering why the hell his head feels like it’s swimming. “ _Who?_ ”

“Nobody important,” Ed says slowly, struggling to think. There’s something weird here, something he doesn’t like at all, and if he could just get his head on straight to figure out what it is... “He gives me information, and we had an agreement, but he knew it was over as soon as I met you.”

“Did he now?” Roy asks, sounding doubtful. He starts pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to Ed’s neck, and that’s, okay, really fucking distracting. In between kisses, he adds, “I believe he may have been trying to change that.”

“No,” Ed denies. Ling wouldn’t.

“Tell me his name, Edward,” Roy says, enticing. “And I’ll find out.”

Ed bites his lip against the urge to do what Roy is demanding, pushing against his chest to keep them as separate as possible. He’s suddenly aware of the deliciously musty scent that Roy gives off, but the awareness doesn’t make it any easier to clear his thoughts.

“You fucker,” he says weakly. “You’re an _alpha_.”

Roy blinks down at him with confusion. Ed snarls soundlessly, bunches up the front of Roy’s shirt in his fists, and it takes far more effort than it ought to to spin them around so that Roy’s pressed up against the altar instead. The shapeshifter may be taller than Ed, and he might even be stronger if he puts his mind to it, but Ed has been fighting for his life for _most_ of his life, and he’s got more tricks up his sleeve than almost anyone he knows.

“Listen good, because I’m only going to say this once,” he says as threateningly as he can when his head is still swimming with the need to give Roy whatever he wants. “I don’t like being forced to do shit. And I know you don’t think of it this way, I know this alpha shit is just fucking natural for you, but you aren’t going to pull this on me again. If you want something from me, you ask for it, and you keep your damn pheromones to yourself!”

Roy rubs at Ed’s hips, tries to pull him in close to soothe his anger, but Ed doesn’t budge. “I hadn't even realized what I was doing,” Roy says, a wry tone to his voice. “All I was thinking about was discovering the name of the person who thought they could keep you for themselves.” This time when he gently tugs Ed forward, Ed allows himself to be moved, and he leans comfortably into the larger body in front of him. Roy’s voice drops low and dangerous. “If anybody tries to take you from me, Edward Elric, I will utterly destroy them.”  
  
Ed should probably find it at least a little alarming that Roy is threatening to kill anyone who touches him, but instead finds the assertion to be strangely touching. “I can take care of my fucking self,” he grumbles anyway, then uses the grip he already has on Roy’s shirt to pull him closer. “Now shut up and kiss me before I strangle you, you stupid bas—”

Roy’s lips on his are demanding and possessive, and the arms that wrap around him are even worse. Ed would like to pretend that it's the lingering effects of the pheromones that convince him to let the older man have his way, but he tries not to lie to himself most days. The truth is that he likes Roy's strength, likes that his soulmate is not only clearly capable of protecting him but that he also wants to. It's nice to know that there's finally someone he can give himself over to, so when he’s sick of trying to be in control of everything he can easily hand over the reins.

When they finally have to part to catch their breaths, Roy drops his head to Ed’s neck again. “Mine,” he growls in between fluttering kisses and little nips that are probably going to leave marks. “Nobody else, _nobody_ can ever touch you—”

Ed tilts his head to the side and wraps his arms around Roy’s neck. “Yeah,” he breathes, distantly appalled by the shake in his voice. “All yours.”

This seems to calm Roy down some. He pauses to breathe deeply into Ed's neck, then kisses his way back to Ed’s lips. This kiss is less demanding, more of a request as he runs gentle hands up and down Ed's back, and Ed still helplessly lets him have control. It's a damn good thing this man is his soulmate, because he's already undone and they haven't even gotten to the good part yet.

He isn't sure how long it takes before they manage to part for longer than just the moment needed to catch their breath. Roy keeps one hand wrapped firmly around Ed’s waist, and the other cups his cheek.

“My beautiful treasure,” he murmurs, and a cheeky grin blooms on his face as Ed instantly blushes. “You are everything I could possibly have dreamed of.”

“Shut up,” Ed snaps, ducking his face into Roy's chest to hide his embarrassment. Roy laughs, doesn't seem to mind his bad temper at all, and Ed flounders in uncertainty. Most people are put off by his rudeness, and he'd fully expected Roy to be hurt by his inability to handle the sap. But Roy just kisses the top of his head and keeps touching him like he wants to memorize Ed's body with his fingertips.

Ed tenses when those fingers ghost over his right shoulder. He presses his face more firmly to Roy's chest, bites his lip against the torrent of nervous babble that wants to come out, but can't do anything about the way he trembles. Nobody has ever reacted well to the realization that he has prosthetic limbs, even people who have no room to judge. If it's not pity, it's anger, as if he'd somehow lost them on purpose, as if he'd wanted all this metal weighing him down.

The problem is, people think if you've had any major life experiences before you've met your soulmate, you've cheated them out of something. It's stupid and ridiculous, nothing but a romantic ideal, and yet somehow the myth persists. Everyone is a blank slate until they meet their other half, and then they can grow together.

It's the biggest bullshit he's ever heard in his life. Some people are lucky enough to meet their mates young, but when your soulmate can be anybody across the known universe? Most people just manage not to have lives that scar them so visibly.

Roy's hand settles at the back of Ed’s shoulder blade, and he runs his thumb softly along the join of flesh and metal. “I had thought one of your arms felt unusually heavy,” he says. “I hoped I was just dizzy from kissing you.”

Ed stops gnawing on his lip and looks up slowly. Roy looks back down at him, curious and understanding and a little bit angry, but not, Ed thinks, at him. Angry at whatever had hurt him.

“Most of my left leg is gone too,” he blurts, surprising himself. The emotions that cross Roy's face are complicated, and Ed closes his eyes. Behind them, he sees instead a large, dark room. There are too many blinking lights around him, and the silhouette that hovers over him has a grin that is too wide for its small face. His eyes snap open again, and he knows he must look terrified because Roy’s arms encircle him, protective. “I can't—I fucking can't—”

Roy shushes him, nuzzling behind his ear, and if it had been anyone else he'd be pissed enough about it to knock the jackass flat on their back. But his soulmate is immune somehow, damn it all, and he only growls a little as Roy whispers comforting nonsense to him. He doesn't deserve this man. As much pain as he'd gone through, what they'd done to Al had been worse—

“FUCK!” he yelps, jerking backwards so suddenly he nearly manages to escape Roy's grip on him. Unfortunately, Roy is ridiculously tenacious and clings like a fucking leech, and Ed damn near dislocates his own hip trying to get loose. “Dammit, let the fuck go! I can't believe I let you fucking distract me this much, I've gotta find him, he's gotta be alive—”

“Find who?” Roy asks, not letting go. Ed will be impressed by his ability to keep up with him later. “Edward, wait!”

“Let _go_!” Ed insists, putting all of his strength into pulling away again.

This backfires spectacularly, of course. Roy doesn't let go, and Ed trips over a fallen bit of statue. He automatically reaches for something to stop his fall, and grabs hold of the front of Roy's shirt. Roy, who still has a death grip on him, and was already off-balance.

They collapse in a tangle of limbs, and Ed's breath is knocked out of him again. Roy, the fucker, scrambles while Ed is still seeing stars, and successfully manages to box him in. Ed glares balefully up at him.

“I hate you,” he says with all the venom he can muster.  
  
“If it's your brother you're panicking about,” Roy says seriously, ignoring his statement entirely, “he's with my second in command. He's why I'm here. We came to find you.”

“Wh-how is he—and why isn’t he with _you_?” The announcement is so unexpected Ed doesn’t know quite how to feel, so he settles into his comfortable default: anger. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this planet is? Anything could happen, and if the priests saw him too....”

“We split up to cover more ground, since Alphonse wasn’t certain where your friend would be,” Roy says, his voice dry. “And I almost feel badly for any priest who encountered Riza when she’s feeling protective.”

Ed opens his mouth, considers the offered name, and closes it again. “His soulmate Riza?” he asks slowly. Roy just smiles, and Ed allows himself to relax a little in relief. He knows Al’s soulmate is a Dragon too, and so she’s just as dangerous as Roy. He’s probably fine. “Okay, I guess you’re not completely useless. Now let me up.”

“I don’t think I want to,” Roy says, voice low and seductive. It’s irritatingly effective, but Ed is absolutely _not_ getting distracted again. He shoves Roy back with his right hand and levels the bastard with his best glare.

“You’re going to let me up,” he stated in a tone that doesn’t merely imply the ‘or else’. “And you’re going to take me to my little brother, and only after that are you even going to think about sex again.”  
  
“That may be a bit difficult to enforce.” Roy has his eyebrows raised skeptically, but he gets up, so Ed decides to roll his eyes rather than hit him.

Once they're both standing, Roy takes a small earbud out of his pocket and gives it a little twist before putting it in his ear. He pulls Ed in close to his side with one arm and starts wandering in what must be a random direction. Ed's pretty sure it won't take them _quite_ the way they want to go, unless Roy's deliberately taking the scenic route.

Pity the scenic route is mostly burnt-out husks these days.

“How's the romantic walk going, Elizabeth?” Roy asks in a cheerful voice. He gives Ed a wink when Ed looks at him like he's crazy. “No, the locals haven't been very welcoming on our end either. I'm sure we could've had a worse vacation, but I was still thinking we might cut it a bit short. Hm? No, no, we're both fine. Just a bit eager to leave.” He pulls an exaggerated grimace and pouts down at Ed. “She doesn't believe that we're not hurt!”

“Well, you did forget to tell her about the stairs,” Ed suggests.

“I don't think the stairs are very relevant here,” Roy says primly. “Do you _want_ to know about the stairs, Liz? ...I didn't think so.”

They chat for another minute before Roy reaches into his ear and turns the communicator off again. Ed frowns at him suspiciously as he shoves it back in his pocket, which hardly seems ideal. What if he needs to answer it in an emergency?

“Was that like some sort of code?” he asks quietly.

Roy grins down at him, looking as if he's delighted by how easily Ed understood what was happening. Not that it was terribly difficult to figure out, and the code itself is pretty simple. It’s probably a lot easier to decipher if you already know what it's supposed to mean, though, so maybe he’s a bit biased.

“We'll meander around a bit like lost tourists while we make our way back to the docks,” Roy says. “But we'll get back faster than you'll expect.”

Ed snorts and shakes his head a little. “What the hell’re you on the run from?”

Roy laughs briefly. “I'll tell you if you tell me,” he murmurs low in Ed's ear.  
  
Fucker’s too observant for his own good. Ed doesn't say anything, though. He isn't sure how much Al’s said to his own soulmate, if he's said anything at all, and he doesn't want to give them conflicting information.

Not to mention that telling Roy what they're running from means explaining things Ed can still barely _think_ about without wanting to scream.

Phantom pains shoot down his right arm, the arm he no longer has, and Ed flinches against Roy’s side. He can feel concerned eyes on him but he pretends not to notice, looking out on the ruins of Lior and remembering the planet in its prime instead. The hand on his hip rubs gentle circles into his skin until Ed lays his own hand over it.

“Don't,” he says softly. “I'm fine. It's just my arm reminding me it's gone. It happens sometimes when I think about—how I lost it.”

He can hear Roy take a deep breath, and then he laces his fingers together with Ed's. “Better not think about it, then,” he says.

“Yeah,” Ed agrees quietly, staring down at their entwined fingers. “Better not.”

Hesitantly, very carefully, Ed spreads his left arm across Roy's back and hooks a finger in one of his belt loops. Roy gives his fingers a little squeeze but otherwise doesn't react, not even the slightest hitch to his measured stride. It's kind of great, actually.

It's a shame it's not going to last. Nothing Ed touches ever does.

He doesn't let himself dwell on that thought as they amble their way back to the docks. Roy is a warm and solid presence pressed up all along his left side and Ed has been pushing himself hard on little sleep since he realized Al was missing; he leans against him and rests his eyes. He's pretty sure he's more or less sleepwalking at some points, but, hell, if he can't trust his own damn soulmate, who in the ‘verse is he supposed to trust?

Besides Al, of course. But that goes without saying.

“You might want to wake up a little, beautiful,” Roy murmurs softly into his ear.

“Hmmm?” Ed asks, slightly annoyed by the pet name but too drowsy and content to respond to it. He opens his eyes and looks blearily around the dock, brightening considerably when he spots a familiar head of gold-blond hair. “Al!”

Al turns from the woman he's talking to and grins as brightly as Ed must be himself. He lifts one hand in a cheerful wave, the other one tangled together with his soulmate’s. Deciding that that's _obviously_ not a good enough greeting, Ed worms his way out of Roy's grip to throw both of his arms around Al instead.

Somewhere behind him, Roy's annoyed growl is aborted as he clears his throat instead. Ed and Al resolutely ignore him.

“What the fuck happened, Al?” Ed asks, stepping back just far enough to pat his brother down for any obvious injuries. “Are you hurt? Do we need to get Winry? We'll have to go to her anyway, she'll actually murder me if we don't go pick her up now that you're back, but if you're hurt we should go _faster_ —”

“Brother, calm down!” Al says, laughing even as he pats Ed down himself. “We were ambushed by raiders, but Roy and his crew took me to a hospital. I'm fine. I'm sorry I worried you, but I was unconscious.”

“For _three weeks_!?” Ed hears his voice go up an octave and winces, but he has more important things to worry about. He grabs Al’s shoulders and looks him over again, trying to ascertain what they might have missed, what they could have done _wrong_. The underground hospitals are great in a pinch, but for something that severe....

“A real hospital, Brother,” Al corrects softly. Ed gives him a sharp look. “Riza had me checked in under the name ‘Alfons Heidrich’, and they didn't record soulmarks. I checked.”

“You're sure—they didn't see you or send anyone after you or—” Ed doesn't want to think about what could have happened, or who could be in wait for them the moment they stopped paying attention.

“I saw a few on planet, but none of them noticed me,” Al assures him, voice quiet and serious. “I don't know what to tell Riza.”

“Leave it alone for now,” Ed suggests in the same tone. “Unless it becomes an issue.”

Al chews on his lip in obvious uncertainty, probably not wanting to lie to his soulmate, but Ed doesn't know what else to do. The less people know about the things Bradley has hunting for them, the better, and if he can spare Roy even that little bit of pain, he'll do it. He suspects the man's had enough in his life already. He'd never work out as Ed’s soulmate otherwise.

Shaking off the dismal thoughts, Ed wraps his little brother in one last squeezing hug before he steps back. Almost immediately, he feels two strong arms wrap around his waist, and somehow he knows it's Roy even before he feels the press of lips against his neck.

“For fuck’s sake, Roy!” Ed snaps, squirming mostly in exasperation. “He's my damn brother! What do you think we're gonna do?”

“Mine,” Roy growls.

“You dumbass,” Ed says, and rolls his eyes at the softness of his own voice. “Didn't we already have this fucking conversation?”

He twists a little and manages to catch Roy's lips mostly by accident. Roy cups his face and kisses him firmly, thoroughly distracting him _again_. Ed decides to let him get away with it this time.

“Captain,” the woman's voice says, her clipped tone effortlessly breaking into the blissful haze that had settled around Ed’s mind. Shit, no wonder she was Al's soulmate. “Perhaps you could relocate this _onto_ the ship? I'd like to leave this planet as soon as possible.”

Well. That sounded like a story.

“Hey, wait,” Ed protests weakly. “What about my ship? We can't just leave it here; I've still got stuff on it!”

“I'm surprised the Tringhams aren't pinging you to get back on board yet,” Al says mildly. “And Russell isn't making fun of how attached you are to Roy.”

Ed rubs nervously at the back of his neck, looking away from the docks. “Uh,” he says intelligently. “Yeah. Them.”

“You...you flew that thing out here _on your own_?” Al yells. Ed winces and tries not to look guilty, but it mustn't work very well because Al starts pulling at his hair the way he does whenever he wants to strangle Ed for being stupid. “That heaping load of bolts could break down at any second, and who's going to fix it without Winry there? _You!?_ ”

“Hey,” Ed protests weakly. “I could probably get it running. It's just physics.”

“It's just—are you—of course you're serious. You're an idiot. And you're not flying it back again.” Ed barely even gets a chance to glare at Al before his little brother's holding up a finger to say he's not done. “If we can't just scrap it here, I'll fly it out because I, unlike you, pay attention when Winry tells me how to fix things!”

“Why do I keep a mechanic if I need to know how to fix it myself?” Ed complains. “It's so _boring_. Winry loves it so much, _she_ can take care of it.”

“Not if she's not there, Brother!” Al yells. Ed definitely doesn't pout at him. “I'm taking the ship! And Riza. You can go with Roy.”

“You can't kick me out of my own ship!” Ed snarls.

“Oh, do you want to leave me already?” Roy purrs, inserting himself into the argument and pressing himself against Ed's back. Ed's argument dies in his throat with a little ‘erk’ sound. “And I had such plans for our first night on board.”

Roy fits against his back so damn nicely that Ed can't help but push into him just a little; Roy's arms tighten around him. “I...guess I can suck it up this time,” Ed says, mouth dry.

“This is my cue to leave!” Al cuts in loudly, backing away. “Riza, do you need anything from your ship before we leave? We should go get it. Like, now.”

Ed hasn't really paid much attention to Al's soulmate yet, so now he wrenches his attention away from Roy to look at her instead. She looks completely unruffled, a slight smile on her face as she addresses Roy. “I'll communicate with Havoc to make sure we both have the same destination. I have the feeling you'll be busy.”

“Riza!” Al wails dramatically. “That's my brother!”

Ed watches them walk off, a warm bubble of happiness expanding in his chest at the way they cling to each other's hands. It's completely adorable, and just what Al needs: somebody slow and steady, who will be more than happy to wait until he's comfortable.  
  
Ed, though. Ed needs something else entirely. Roy's fingers drift a little lower where they're resting on his stomach, and he shivers a little in anticipation.

Roy guides him onto his ship, where his crew is waiting anxiously for his return. The introductions are short and to the point, nobody quite daring to look Ed in the eye as Roy hovers pointedly behind him, hands never lifting from Ed's hips. It's a relief when they leave for a ‘tour’ of the ship instead.

It's not much of a tour. Roy briefly points out where everything is, or at least how to get there if he really needs to, and then pulls Ed into his bedroom. Ed doesn't bother resisting when he's pulled into another long, lingering kiss, even when Roy starts pulling at his clothes.

“Is this okay?” Roy asks, walking Ed backwards toward the bed. “Are you sure you don't need to wait?”

“It's fine,” Ed growls impatiently. “Don't fucking patronize me.”

“I'm not, I swear. I just—” He stops moving just as the back of Ed's legs tap against the bed, cupping Ed's face and staring into his eyes with painful sincerity. “I don't want you to regret anything we do.”

He's too damn good at this mushy shit. Ed wraps his arms around Roy's neck, curling his flesh fingers into the fine hair at his nape. Their closeness even manages to chase away most of his usual embarrassment, and he only feels the faintest heat on his cheeks as he responds.

“I can't regret this,” he says honestly. “The only thing I'd regret is not getting to have you if something fucked up tomorrow.”  
  
“How I could possibly deserve someone so perfect...” Roy whispers, but before Ed can ask what the hell he’s talking about, they’re kissing again. Ed closes his eyes as they fall into bed, and decides to let it go for tonight. There will be plenty of time for questions later. Right now he’s going to enjoy as much of his soulmate as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be _even longer_ , but the last scene was pure indulgent sappy worldbuilding that has nothing to do with the plot. So it's prooooobably going to appear as a side story at some point, but this particular story is complete. I. Haven't actually started the rest of the series yet. I have possibly been panicking a lot about Roy/Ed week. Which I still only have one story completed for, but let's not discuss that.


End file.
